


A Serpent Among Us

by IneffableBastard



Series: A Serpent Among Us AU [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Gen, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Other, Possessive Crowley, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley, Snake Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2020-12-16 08:57:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21033653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableBastard/pseuds/IneffableBastard
Summary: If I was better at drawing this would probably be better as a comic, but there you go. We can't have everything we want!This is mostly going to be angsty fluff I think, but I'm writing it as I go, so we'll see!It has been two weeks since the dinner at The Ritz, and Aziraphale hasn't seen Crowley in two weeks when suddenly a very large and friendly snake appears in the bookshop...





	1. A Snake in the Bookshop

Aziraphale stared glumly out of the window, watching the rain patter down. The world outside looked grey, the sky mirroring the concrete city below. It was fitting he supposed, given his own mood as of late. For two weeks he had seen neither hide nor hair of Crowley. Every time the doorbell tinkled he would hurry to the front of the shop, expecting to see the tall black clad figure of his mortal enemy. His nemesis. His best and only friend.

He sighed, and turned from the window, contemplating his antique phone in the corner. Should he try to call Crowley again? He had left so many voice messages on Crowleys’ home phone and mobile that he feared he reeked of desperation. But what else could he do? He could try calling round Crowleys’ flat again, but he felt like such a bother. He sincerely hoped that Crowley wasn’t annoyed at him for not kissing him goodbye after their dinner at the Ritz.

It had been the perfect moment. The demon had leaned in, the scent of him overwhelming the angel, and Aziraphale had gone redder than the demons’ hair, squeaked “goodnight dear boy!” and hastily retreated into the safety of the bookshop. The perfect moment, ruined. The evening had been going so splendidly too- Crowley had finally started to relax around him. He always _looked _relaxed, but there was always a distance he carefully maintained between himself and the angel, and Aziraphale had noticed it. Finally the distance between them had started to close; Crowleys’ hands resting next to the angels’, their knees touching underneath the table as he leant in to listen to the angel at dinner.

Aziraphale had hoped against all hopes that finally they could be more than they ever had been before. Then he had absolutely bricked it. That was two weeks ago, and still Crowley had not returned. He made his way back to his desk. He let the needle fall on his old gramophone, the soft orchestral music filling the room. Poured a glass of wine and picked up the book he had been reading. He sipped at the wine but it was one that Crowley had bought round for him and the taste soured in his mouth at the thought. Aziraphale placed the glass gently back down onto the desk and lifted the book.

He sat there, unable to concentrate on his book, until the bookshop had grown dark and the gramophone went silent. Looking over at the phone he contemplated calling Crowley again, but he wasn’t sure he could take hearing “This Anthony Crowley, you know what to do- do it with style”. Suddenly, he heard a rustling. Aziraphale straightened up in his chair.

He heard it again, louder this time, closer. “H-Hello? I’m afraid we are closed...” he called out, frowning as he rose from his chair. The noise was coming from the front of the bookshop. The angel slowly rounded the corner of one of the larger bookcases, peering out to see who was there. Thunk! The sound of a rather large book hitting the floor made him jump. His eyes snapped to the shelf it had fallen from. There was something moving along the tops of the books.

Suddenly he found himself face to face with a very large snake, its blunt snout peeking out from the books, huge amber eyes fixed on him. “Oh, hello there. Terribly sorry if I startled you. Don’t be afraid, I’m an angel- I promised to love _all _living creatures” the angel smiled kindly at the snake, holding out a hand for the snake to inspect. It flicked its tongue out at him, tasting the air as it examined his outstretched palm.

He coaxed the snake out from the bookcase, tickling it under the chin every time it moved to encourage it to leave the bookcase. It slithered down the side of the shelves, the rest of its body hitting the floor with a heavy thump. Aziraphale sat cross legged on the floor and lit more candles with a flick of his hand- he knew that snakes had sensitive eyes so he didn’t want to risk the electric lights. The snake wound its way across the floor, tentatively. The angel drummed on the floor lightly with his fingers then patted his knee, sending out a warm feeling of good intentions to calm the creature. It seemed to catch the hint and coiled up at his feet, resting its head gently on the angels’ knee.

Now that the snake was fully in the light Aziraphale could examine it properly- it was easily more than two metres long, and thicker than the angels’ forearm at its widest point. It looked at him with huge amber eyes, and its scales gleamed black in the soft candlelight. “Well, you are a handsome lad, aren’t you?” the angel murmured, tickling under the snakes chin again. “You look familiar, Mr.Snake. Whatever are you doing in my bookshop?” He knew the snake couldn’t answer, but it felt nice to have something to talk to. Aziraphale gently lifted the snake, scooping up all the coils as he stood, and carried it out into the kitchen. “Let’s get a look at you, make sure you’re in good shape. Wherever did you wander in from, I wonder?”

The snake watched him warily as he held it up in the light, checking for injuries. The snakes’ belly was alternating shades of red, gold and orange that shifted and blended into each other perfectly but it had several large, deep scratches along it. The angel tutted, and set the snake down on the table, where it recoiled itself neatly. It observed him as he found the rarely used first aid box and allowed the angel to clean its cuts with an antibacterial solution with little fuss and just a few hisses. Then the angel ran his hands along it, using a miracle to heal them completely. The snake examined where all the cuts had been, tongue flickering in and out. It bumped the angels’ hand with its snout then, hesitantly, began to wind its way up the angels’ arm. Aziraphale beamed widely. He had always had more of an affinity with mammals- reptiles were Crowleys’ forte. He admired the way the scales caught and reflected the light as the snake wound around his arm and across his shoulder. Gods creations never ceased to amaze him.

Aziraphale tried to make the snake a bed up with old scarves and blankets but it didn’t seem interested, instead slithering straight into the back room. It tasted the air cautiously before winding its way straight up onto the sofa, coiling itself up as if it were used to the place already. There was something strange about the familiarity with which the snake navigated the bookshop, but Aziraphale couldn’t quite put his finger on why that was.

He sat himself down in his usual chair opposite the sofa and began to read again, when it suddenly occurred to him that snakes were cold blooded and needed to be kept warm. He hurried back to the kitchen and grabbed the blankets from the table. He tucked the snake in amongst the blankets and he could have sworn he heard the snake sigh in contentment. What a strange thing, he thought. “I wonder if you belong to someone around here?” he said out loud before adding “-not of course that animals truly _belong _to anyone, but you must be someone’s pet. Big snakes like you certainly aren’t native to England, after all.” The snake didn’t answer, because of course it couldn’t, but it made Aziraphale feel better to talk out loud to something. Less alone.

He decided that once morning came he would put up posters around the neighbourhood to see if the snake had a home already- its colouration was exotic and its size meant it must be someone’s prize pet that had somehow gotten loose.


	2. Posters and Polaroids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A big protective snake boi and his angel go on a little adventure...  
the title makes it sound more interesting than this is lmao, but it'll get juicy soon, I promise. Also my love for Oxford Commas knows no bounds, so enjoy my super long sentences.  
DISCLAIMER:  
Please don't feed snakes people food by the way! Very bad!!! I actually researched snakes for this fic, and they are definitely not supposed to eat human food!

Aziraphale got out his old polaroid camera (wonderful little inventions, he thought) and took a few snaps of the snake the next morning before dusting off his typewriter to make a poster. It ended up looking quite quaint- a typed sheet that said “SNAKE FOUND. APROX 2 AND A HALF METRES LONG, BLACK WITH RED AND GOLD BELLY AND YELLOW EYES. VERY FRIENDLY. CONTACT A.Z.FELL AT A.Z.FELL AND CO BOOKSHOP” followed by his address and telephone number. He had carefully glued the photos beneath this and satisfied with his handiwork took it down to the library to make some copies. He left the snake coiled up on the sofa, not wanting to disturb it.

When he returned with his stack of posters (and a very large artisan sandwich and pastry from a nearby bakery) he found the snake draped across his radiator. The radiator hadn’t been on, and he definitely hadn’t left it next to the window- but he must have. How else would it have gotten there and been switched on? The radiator was in the exact spot where the sun filtered in through the stacks of books. The snake lifted its head up in greeting as the angel stepped inside, and wound its way down and across the floor, following Aziraphale into the back room.

It wriggled its way gracefully up a chair and onto the table, flicking its tongue at Aziraphales’ food, interested. He broke off a piece of sandwich and offered it to the snake, who took it gently from his fingers and swallowed it whole. It nosed the pastry, its amber eyes fixing on the angels’ blue eyes, beseeching. Aziraphale tutted before tearing off a small piece, proffering it for the snake to take. “Wait... this food probably isn’t good for you, you know” he said thoughtfully as he chewed. “Perhaps after I have put up the posters I should take you to the local pet shop... get you some proper food” Aziraphale swore he saw the snake roll its eyes. But of course snakes can’t do that, he thought.

“You know...” he paused to chew, “you really do look like Crowleys’ original earthly form, perhaps he modelled it on your particular breed? Of course you are much smaller, but Crowley always needs to be larger than life.” He smiled thoughtfully. “Perhaps I’ll name you Crawly... you probably already have a name but I’ll call you that until we find your human. That was Crowleys’ name originally, you know” he reached out and tickled underneath the snakes’ chin.

The snake watched him intently as he ate, its head resting on its tail, eyes fixed on the angel. When Aziraphale had finished and cleared everything away he picked up the huge serpent, allowing it to wind across his shoulders. It draped itself over him, coiled loosely around his neck. And that is how a kindly middle aged gentleman in very old fashioned clothes came to wander the streets of Soho, sticking up posters whilst a huge black snake snoozed lazily on his shoulders.

He got some rather strange looks as he ambled down streets, but he didn’t mind. Aziraphale just hoped he could get the snake back to its home, even if the weight was quite comfortable around his shoulders. He stepped into a darkened cobbled alleyway, where the grey London daylight didn’t quite reach, a shortcut. He heard a noise behind him, and turned. Two young men stepped out of the gloom, and he felt the presence of someone else behind him.

“Give us your money book man” the taller one said. He was lanky and spotty, but he had a gleam of malice in his eyes.   
“You must be loaded, them books in your shop are well pricey” the shorter, squatter one next to him piped in.   
“I’m afraid you must be mistaken” Aziraphale replied, worried. He couldn’t just reveal his angelic power to three humans, but he couldn’t just hand over his money either. If he did that they would just keep coming back.

“Give us everything you ‘ave book man, or else” the taller one spoke again, grinning as he flicked a pocket knife open. He stepped closer to the angel, and that’s when Crawly sprang from Aziraphales’ neck, mouth open wide. The youth staggered back in surprise as the snake launched itself at him, fangs gleaming. “What the fuck?!” he screeched as the snake hit him, fangs going for his throat. “Get it off me!!!!” he screamed, as his friends looked on in horror. Aziraphale stood, mouth agape, as he watched the young man try to pry the writhing snake off of himself.   
“Crawly, stop that at once! Let go of that young man this instant!” He commanded, pouring a little power into his voice. The snake stiffened, drawing his head up level with the youths before hissing menacingly, fangs bared. Then, without further ado, it slithered down to the ground, making its way back to the angel. As soon as the last of the snake left his body he turned on his heel and ran, his two friends following suit.

Aziraphale stooped to allow Crawly to wind his way back up to his spot across the angels’ shoulders, tutting. “There was really no need to scare them like that, you silly snake, but thank you all the same” he said softly as he tickled the snakes’ chin. “You’re just like Crowley, leaping in to save me” he chuckled a little, then looked sad. The snake bumped its nose into his hand and Aziraphale petted him again.


	3. A Throne of Flies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm terrible at coming up with titles, but here you go.   
It's Crowley's time to shine... or not.

Crowley had been snoozing on his throne, feet up on the desk. He had flung himself into the chair recklessly, full of sadness and confusion at what had just transpired. The date- or that was what he hoped it was- had been going better than he could have imagined. He had sat closer to the angel than ever before, and Aziraphale had not moved away- if anything he had leaned in closer than usual. Their knees had rested against one and other throughout the meal and their hands had brushed each other’s on more than one occasion. It was enough to make the demons’ frail heart burst. They had laughed, smiled, drank together and something felt different, like their relationship was finally shifting.

The drive back from the Ritz had been quiet, but it had been a comfortable full bellied quiet, not awkward at all. He walked the angel to the door, then leaned in to kiss the angel goodnight- only intending to kiss the angels’ cheek- not wanting to go too fast for the angel. Instead the angel had squeaked “Goodnight dear boy!” and disappeared into the bookshop before Crowley even had a chance to reply. He sighed as he put his feet up on the desk, wondering if he had misread the situation. He had always assumed the angel knew how he felt, that it was only their status as angel and demon that had stopped him from reciprocating. Now he wasn’t too sure. He was going to have to take matters into his own hands. Crowley had been going over romantic gestures in his head-flowers, chocolates, or expressing his love through poetry (the angel would like that) when he slipped into an uneasy slumber in his chair.

Crowley awoke with a start. He could feel someone watching him in the darkness. As his eyes adjusted he glanced around warily, eyes settling on a figure in the corner of the room. “Who’ssss there?” he hissed sleepily, rubbing his eyes. He felt a presence behind him materialise, then another. The figure in the corner stepped forward and out of the shadows. “Crowley. You’re coming with uzzzzzzz” came Beelzebub’s’ voice. “Get him boyzzzzz”. The two demons behind and to the side of him grabbed him roughly, hauling him out of his chair and onto his knees in front of Beelzebub. “We may not be able to kill you Crowley, but I have something far worse in mind” Beelzebub said with a grin. Crowley felt the panic rise inside his chest as Beelzebub sank into the floor, disappearing. He shouted a wordless cry as the demons behind him grasped his shoulders and began to pull him down into the floor with him.

They sank through the ground for what seemed like a millennia. Suddenly he found himself falling, briefly, before the world righted itself and his knees hit the hot, hard dirt. Beelzebub brushed the dirt from their shoulders nonchalantly before leaning down to smirk at Crowley. They were somewhere dark, dank, and hot. So very very hot. He breathed in the scent of sulphur and knew he was back Below. Hell.

“I wazzzz very put out that we couldn’t kill you, traitor” Beelzebub sneered. Crowley squirmed, but it was no use, whoever was behind him had him in a vice like grip. There was no point trying to escape: three demons against one (one of whom was Prince of Hell) was terrible odds, even for him, and Crowley rarely entered fights he couldn’t win- or at least cheat his way out of. And besides, where would he escape to? He would have to fight his way through millions of demons to get back to Earth. No. He would have to try something else. “My Lord, your unholy grace, Prince of Hell...” he began.  
“Shut it! I’ve had enough of your silver tongue traitor!” Beelezbub snapped.   
“Surely you don’t want the world to end, your grace? No more humans to tempt and torture?” Crowley asked, raising his eyes to look at the prince.   
“Silence! You took our rightful victory from uzzzz and you will be punished!” Beelzebub seethed, their face contorted with rage as flies buzzed around their face. They shook their head, and the look of anger passed. A nasty grin spread across their face. They flicked his snake belt buckle, still grinning. “I wondered what I could do instead of killing you when it occurred to me... seeing azzzz you like snakezzz so much, perhapzzz you should spend eternity trapped azzzz one.” Beelzebub waved their hand, and Crowley felt his body lengthening, contorting, becoming thinner. His bones snapped, popped, and vanished, and he shrieked in pain, his cries fading out to a hiss as the transformation completed. “Oh, and don’t bother trying to escape, your angel _friend _will never recognise you” they laughed. “Lock it away, I never want to see hizzzz face again” Beelzebub chuckled and turned on their heel, disappearing into the gloom. 


	4. Rogers' Reptiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pet Shop Shenanigans, just a little chapter to soften the blow of the next couple of chapters which will be Crowley focussed ;)

Crawly had dozed off on the angels’ shoulders as he had made his way to the local pet shop. It was only a ten minute walk, but then snakes did like to sleep, he reasoned. Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure the snake was asleep, truth be told- snakes didn’t have eyelids after all. But the snake had been incredibly still the whole walk, so it certainly seemed like it.

As he rounded the corner he saw the place- snakes painted along the windows, wound along painted branches, and neon flashing signs depicting goldfish and lizards. “Rogers’ Reptiles, specializing in reptiles and tropical fish of all shapes and sizes!” the signs proclaimed. _Excellent _Aziraphale thought. _If anyone can help me, they can!_ He stepped through the door into the dimly lit shop. It smelt musty and it took his eyes a moment to adjust. The walls were lined with huge tanks, fish streaming past in a rainbow of colours to his right, lizards and snakes of all shapes and sizes basking under heat lamps to his left. A row of shelves ran down the middle boasting fake rocks, bits of wood, and various other things he couldn’t identify. He made his way through, stopping occasionally to peer at a particularly interesting lizard or snake. As he neared the back of the shop Aziraphale noticed a tank of terrapins, and another full of tiny brightly coloured frogs that he was certain were not legal to keep as pets. _This shop might be a little dodgy, _he thought.

Aziraphale approached the counter and rang the bell gently, causing Crawly to stir round his neck. A large man wearing a tight fitting shirt that read “What do you call a snake that is 3.14 metres long? A Pi-thon!” emerged from the back room, wiping his glasses on his shirt before putting them back on. He had a huge bushy beard that enveloped most of his face and a big grin, giving him a friendly look. “Mornin’, what can I do you for?” he beamed as he caught sight of Aziraphale.

“Ah, good morning sir. I was wondering if you could help me- I found this snake in my bookshop and I thought perhaps you might know who he belongs to?” he lifted Crawly gently from his shoulders and laid him on the desk where he immediately curled up defensively. The shop keeper switched on a small lamp and picked up the snake delicately. “Have any experience with snakes then Mr..?” he asked, as he examined Crawly.  
“Fell, Mr. Fell. Oh, not really no” the angel replied. The shop keeper looked up at him in surprise.  
“How did you know he’s male Mr. Fell?” Aziraphale frowned.  
“I-I’m not sure, I just had a feeling. So, do you know anyone who might keep snakes like him?” The shop keeper shook his head.  
“Never seen a critter like him, mate. He’s about the size of a half-grown python- judging by his scales he’s full grown though- and he doesn’t appear to be venomous... he looks like an Australian red bellied black snake in terms of colouration. But no... his head shape and eyes are all wrong... and I’ve never seen a snake with teeth quite like this...” he lifted Crawlys’ head up, and opened his mouth as he said this, taking a good look inside at his fangs.

“He’s really got me stumped; I have no idea what species he is. Must be some rare new cross or summat.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully.  
“Oh...” Aziraphale couldn’t help but look disappointed, he had really hoped to learn a bit more so that he could dazzle Crowley with facts when he got back. From wherever he was...  
“Look, I can uh take some pics and post them online, see if we can identify him or find his owner? Have you tried yet?” Aziraphale lit up.  
“Oh no I haven’t, what a splendid idea! I put up these posters just now in the area, but that would be very helpful, thank you!” he handed the shop keeper one of his posters. He peered at it oddly but didn’t say anything. “I’ll contact you if I find anythin’, in the meantime do you know how to care for him?” he asked, gesturing at the snake.  
“Oh... no... what do I feed him? I’ve never cared for a snake before I’m afraid, so I haven’t the foggiest” Aziraphale replied, scratching Crawly under the chin.  
“Well you should get him a tank, and some bits to occupy him, as well as food Mr. Fell...”

Aziraphale shook his head. “I shan’t be putting him into one of these awful things,” he said, gesturing at the tanks. “Just tell me how to make my bookshop safe for him to roam, and if you could sell me some food that would be lovely!” He had no intention of cooping up Crawly in a tank, not now that he had had the whole bookshop to explore- it felt cruel somehow. “Well, you should get him a heat lamp at least, and I can print off some info on snake proofing a room. It really wouldn’t be wise to let the snake roam loose around your shop though, Mr. Fell” the shop keeper replied with a frown. “Just hold on and I’ll print some stuff out and get you a good heat lamp from out back. Oh, and some mice from the freezer!” He turned and disappeared into the back room.

Aziraphale scooped Crawly off the desk and allowed him to wind his way back up and around his neck and shoulders. The snake bumped his nose against the angels’ cheek, flicking his tongue at him until he reached up and tickled under his chin again. “You really are a needy chap, you know that?” he said softly, stroking the snake. He could have sworn he saw the snakes’ eyes roll at him again, but of course he was just imagining it...


	5. A Hellish Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pt. 1 of Crowleys' solo adventures. (This is going backwards, detailing Crowleys' escape from Hell prior to him showing up in the bookshop).   
Funnily enough I have another 3 or 4 parts written, but I still need to finish the one that comes after this, so bear with me.  
I go on to explain this in the next part but basically Crowleys' powers are still there, just heavily restricted by his current form.

Crowley woke up suddenly and tried to blink. Wait... why couldn’t he blink? Where was he? He tried to sit up, before realising he couldn’t. He twisted and caught sight of himself... he had no legs, just a sleek long body that twitched in surprise. The memories came flooding back, of Beelzebub dragging him back to hell and cursing him. He had been thrown into a cell in the lower circles of Hell and passed out.

The cell wasn’t really a cell- it was more of a dank cave with iron spikes barring the entrance. It seemed a little silly, he thought, that there were bars when he could quite easily slip through them in this form. But then he doubted they would expect him to escape- how could a snake escape Hell, after all? He hissed in frustration. He needed to get out of here and back to Aziraphale- he would know what to do! Even if he didn’t recognise Crowley there must be some way to figure it out.

Crowley slithered out of the cell, determined. There were no guards- Beezlebub clearly expecting him to wallow in this deep pit- but he stuck to the shadows regardless, grateful for his dark colouration. This form was restricting most of his demonic powers, but he felt a spark of it still at his disposal. _Best to save it for later though_ he thought. As it was, he could climb walls in this form and he used this to avoid as many demons as possible, clinging to the shadows and slithering silently past them all.

It was surprisingly easy to go unnoticed- no one was looking for him and none of the demons were very diligent. _It’s hard to be diligent and give a damn about your job_ he thought, _when you are literally in Hell. It’s not like any of us are here by choice. _He skulked his way out of the lower depths where all the undesirables were kept, and past untold, unnamed beasts that were rarely unleashed. He tried his best not to look at any of them- he had heard of some of the creatures kept down here and had no desire to come face to face with any of them.

As he slithered round a sharp corner, he heard voices and footsteps approaching and sensed lesser demons. _Shit _he thought, _there’s nowhere to hide here but in a cell_. Not a pleasant thought, but the noises where getting closer, so he slipped between some bars. He hissed quietly as the tip of his tail brushed the iron, scalding him a little, and curled up in the shadow of the entrance to the cell. He waited until the voices and footsteps passed, then uncoiled slowly, warily. He could sense the presence of something big, something evil, in the far corner and tensed.

He turned his head a fraction as he heard a deep, low growl from behind him. His snake eyes were not very useful in the darkness of the cave, but he could just about make out the head of a male lion. It moved into the dim light, approaching him slowly. It was much larger than any lion he had seen on Earth, and as it prowled closer he saw that the creatures’ body was that of a komodo dragon- but far larger.

Crowley let out a low warning hiss, drawing his head up high. He felt something whistle through the air towards him and narrowly ducked. He whipped his angular head round to see a gigantic scorpions tail embedded in the ground where his body had been seconds before. Fabulous. He was trapped with some kind of bizarre manticore and stuck in his snake form.

He had two options as far as he could see- turn his back on the creature and try to slip back through the iron bars without scalding himself on the iron or face the creature head on and attack. Turning his back would leave him vulnerable to the tail, but fighting wasn’t exactly a sensible option either. He took a split second to weigh up the two. Crowley reared his head back, then hissed and flung himself forward fangs bared at the creature. It clearly hadn’t expected an attack, and it reared back a little. Those few seconds gave Crowley time to think. His snake form wasn’t venomous, this body was built for crushing and constricting. The creature, on the other hand, was a triple threat- the jaws of the lion, claws of the lizard, and tail of the scorpion. He did not fancy such a painful discorporation, or an eternity literally trapped in the belly of a beast.

In that precious moment he had earned he lunged and slipped past the creature. There was barely room in this cave for it to turn, and that afforded Crowley another few seconds. He heard a drip in the back of the cave and slithered toward it. Backing himself against the wall wasn’t the best idea, but as he slithered he felt the muck and mud pull at his body where the drip was. _Perfect _he thought, a plan formulating. The creature was facing him again, wary. It advanced, claws and huge teeth flashing.

Crowley evaded again, but not quite fast enough, hissing in pain as he felt one of its claws rake him. He baited the creature further and further back, drawing it to the drip. The creature roared angrily, the force of it shaking the cave. It swiped again and again, the claws only finding their mark once as Crowley used his forms manoeuvrability to his advantage. The beast gnashed its huge teeth in frustration and finally lashed out with its tail; the stinger landed directly into the mud with a loud thud right where Crowleys’ head had been moments before.

It tried to yank its stinger free from the mud, to no avail. Crowley leapt for the monsters’ neck and knotted himself round it, tightening, constricting, crushing it with every ounce of strength he had, his coils shifting with every movement. The creature roared, rearing up onto its hind legs. It tried to rake him with its front claws desperately- struggling to free itself from the mud at the same time. Still Crowley tightened, every muscle straining. Suddenly the beasts tail popped free of the mud, and as it struggled to draw breath its stinger came for Crowley. He sensed it a millisecond before it struck him, the stinger plunging into its own back. He felt the body slump beneath him and wriggled free before it could crush him.

He hadn’t planned on killing it- the first time he killed anything was when he had killed Ligur and he had taken no enjoyment from that. He had planned to let go once the beast lost consciousness, but it had died by its own stinger. _Ah well, one less creature they can unleash on the humans... _He thought wearily. He wanted to rest, just a little. Although technically demons need no food or rest to survive he had just used a great deal of energy.

He laid his head down next to the body of the beast; his body weak, his mind heavy. If he could just sleep, just a little, he thought then surely he could make it out of here in one piece. _Crowley. Crowley where are you? _A voice pierced the fog in his head, clear as day. He shook his head as if to shake the fog away. He heard the voice again. _Aziraphale? _He thought. _Aziraphale, is that you? _He got no reply but he knew, somewhere deep down, that the angel must be thinking about him. He had never heard the angels’ thoughts before. That was new. He lifted his head with a low hiss and dragged himself forward, easing his body carefully between the iron bars. He slinked back into the shadows, slower but steady as he wound through the endless labyrinth of tunnels.

He finally made it to an old steel cage contraption that served as a lift to the higher levels. As he drew closer the cage swung down the shaft from above, loudly creaking the whole way. Crowley blended into the shadows, waiting to see if it was occupied with his limited eyesight. It swung into view, clattering as it hit the floor. A toad-like lesser demon that smelt like a swamp emerged and waddled towards him. There was nowhere to hide. No way out. The demon was easily three and a half foot tall but weak. Crowley cursed internally. It wasn’t a fair fight but what choice did he have? If he let them go they could easily raise the alarm and then he would never see his angel again.

Crowley sprang forward and imagined that his snake jaw could stretch wide enough to envelop the other demon. The demons’ frog eyes widened as they saw a huge open maw filled with gleaming teeth burst from the shadows. Crowley imagined with all his might and swallowed the lesser demon whole before it even had a chance to scream. He could feel its essence being absorbed by his own and savoured the little extra power- he still would have preferred a nap and a snack- but it would have to do.

He rode the lift all the way up to the topmost circle of Hell coiled tightly in the shadows of the furthest corner. The awful incandescent bulb swung with every jerk of the lift constantly threatening to illuminate him, hurting his eyes. Crowley found himself hoping against all hope that he could avoid any more encounters with other denizens of Hell as he rode past floor after floor of Hell.

When he got to the top floor Crowley slid out from the lift cautiously, slipping between the rows of desks quietly, avoiding feet and hooves of all descriptions. None of the demons noticed him, buried in paperwork as they were, squinting in the dim, flickering lights at all the forms and numbers. The only sounds were of rustling papers, steady drips of the many leaks in the ceiling, the tapping of fingers and claws on calculators, and the tinny sound of Tom Jones crooning coming from the tannoy system overhead. _This truly is Hell _he thought. _At least it’s not Christmas though. The poor bastards have to listen to Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer on repeat for 3 months. _

As he avoided the puddles of foul water and patches of light throughout the offices of Hell, he heard Beelzebubs’ voice buzzing. _No! Not now, not when I’m so close! _Crowley bit back a hiss.   
“Get on with it! We have 10 million demonzzzzz awaiting their orderzzzz!!” Beelzebub snapped. Their voice was coming from near the only exit. There was no way to get past without being seen. He was going to have to go the old-fashioned way.

Crowley snuck along under the desks until he got to the place where all the leaky pipes and frayed wires disappeared upwards into the dirt. He squeezed himself up into the gap, wriggling his way up past the pipes. There was his old tunnel! The one he had made the first time he had ever left Hell to Tempt Eve. He squirmed his way up, finding the tunnel to be too large for his current form. Even still, it was incredibly narrow and he found himself beginning to panic- what if he got stuck here, halfway between Hell and Earth for the rest of eternity? It was so dark. So small. So hot. So very very suffocating. Crowley tried to curl into a ball, but he couldn’t. Even though he didn’t actually need to breathe he could feel his lungs desperately trying to take in air. He steeled himself. _I haven’t just killed a monster and eaten a demon to give up now, defeated by a bloody hole! _he thought angrily, berating himself. He was going to damn well wriggle out of this blasted tunnel if it took every ounce of strength left in him. He reached out with the demonic power still available to him to make sure the tunnel would come out where he needed it to, then continued to push his way upwards through the dirt.


	6. A Snake on the Loose in London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pt 2 of Crowleys' solo adventures! Feat a small rat friend and a little bit of pining.  
I have the next few chapters written and a rough plan for beyond that written up, so hopefully I'll be a bit more regular with updating now. Bear with me- I'm having a hard time with my mental health atm and I'm working too much so everything is hard. Also I'm determined to finish the advent calendar I started for this AU, even though it's not Christmas any more. It's still cold and horrible here in London so it's seasonal at least.

What felt like a millennium later he finally emerged from the dirt, his head breaking through next to one of his plants. It had taken a minor miracle to come up in a pot of earth rather than the original spot the tunnel had come out to, and now he was exhausted. He wound his way round the base of the plant, glad to be back in his flat, then fell into an uneasy slumber.

He awoke to a gentle knock on the door. Rap rap rap, went the silver snake knocker. He lifted his head wearily, tasting the air. It definitely wasn’t a demon- no tell-tale scent of sulphur hanging in the air and they certainly wouldn’t knock so gently. He slithered out of the pot of earth, and down the hallway to his door. The knocking came again, more insistent this time. “Crowley, Crowley are you there?” _Aziraphale! _He thought jubilantly. “It’s me, Aziraphale. You haven’t been returning my calls, so I thought I’d pop by. Oh blast, what am I doing? Of course, he isn’t here.” The angel sounded exasperated, and somewhat worried.

Crowley cursed internally. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t even open the damned front door. He was stuck here with the angel just on the other side and there was nothing he could do about it. He listened as the angel sighed, and his footsteps retreated into the distance. He would have to find his way to the bookshop somehow.

Crowley slithered into his office, settling into the throne in huge coils. He needed to rest if he wanted to navigate from Mayfair to the bookshop in Soho. He considered his options. He knew resting too long was risky- if Beelzebub realised he was missing this was the first place they would look. The only place he would be safe was the bookshop. But how to get there? _The Bentley? No... I’d end up crashing her, _He thought. He shivered as he noticed a cold breeze coming in. _The window! I left it open... _But his flat was on the first floor- it would take a small miracle for him to slither down the side of the building like that. _I’m not bloody spiderman... But what choice do I have? _It wasn’t like he could just unlock his huge front door and slip out leaving his flat open.

Now you may be wondering about the amount of magic Crowley still had at his disposal. He still had it, of course, but the snake form was restricting it quite severely. Performing anything larger than a minor miracle could risk this form bursting like an overstuffed sausage- discorporating him and sending him straight back to Hell. He wasn’t sure he was quite willing to test the limits of his magic, not just yet at least. Unbolting 3 locks then simultaneously turning a lock and a door handle whilst also exerting force on the door to push it open sounded like rather a challenge for a snake. And a lot of miracle power for a demon in an ill-fitting skin. Some snakes, however, can climb walls so when Crowley had willed himself to climb the walls in Hell, he had simply imagined that he was the kind of snake that could climb walls- and so he was.

Theoretically he thought, he should be able to slide down the outer brick wall and not fall. But he wasn’t exactly thrilled about it. Still, he wasn’t going back into the ground any time soon, so it looked like the only choice. If snakes could grumble he would have grumbled all the way to the window. Then he would have gulped as he poked his angular head out of the window, testing the air with his tongue. Unfortunately he couldn’t grumble or gulp, so he slid out of the window, stretching out towards the wall for some traction and imagining with all his might that he would make it safely to the ground below. When his body finally hit the blessed ground he hissed in relief. After a few minutes of just sitting in a relieved pile in the dirt he tried to visualise the drive to the bookshop in his mind. _Fuck. I can’t follow the main roads, with all these humans about someone will spot me. Or I’ll get hit by a car, like I’m some kind of stupid pedestrian, _he thought exasperated. He was going to have to take the long way, through the alleyways and back passages.

Within five minutes of leaving his flat he was almost mowed down by a bicycle- it sped around a corner and down the tiny alleyway at breakneck speed, giving the large snake milliseconds to fling himself out of the way (and into a huge puddle). He slithered out of the puddle and hissed indignantly in the direction the cyclist had raced off in, shaking the water droplets from himself. _Bloody cyclists_ he thought, annoyed. _I should never have invented bicycles. _It had seemed like a laugh when he had slipped the idea to an inventor, but over the last hundred years they had gradually become a menace to road users everywhere. It hadn’t bothered him until he bought the Bentley, then suddenly they seemed to be all over the bloody place.

He settled for another hiss in the cyclists’ general direction, then slithered into another more familiar alleyway. It was dark and dank but blissfully quiet. _Perhaps I could nap here for a bit? Not too out in the open. Less risky than the flat. Why did I have to be a snake??? Why not something with legs???? _He thought desperately. He wriggled over to a pile of cardboard boxes in a nice, dark looking corner and curled up inside, succumbing to a fitful sleep within minutes.

He was awoken suddenly to the sound of cats yowling and boots on concrete. He poked his head cautiously out of the box, only to have a terrified cat bolt into it with such force that it toppled over. It hissed at him, then turned in fear to face whatever it had been fleeing from, fur standing on end. Crowley felt the box being lifted. “Got one boss!” came a cockney accent. _Shit shit shit _thought Crowley, not sure what was happening in his sleepy haze, but knowing it couldn’t possibly be good. He felt the damp cardboard beneath him sag. He twisted and writhed until the cardboard collapsed sending him falling to the ground with a thump then slithered as fast as he could. “Fuck me! There was sumfink else in that box boss!” came the same voice.

“Well catch it then!” came another, deeper voice. Crowley wriggled as fast as he could as he heard the boots heavy on the concrete and coming steadily closer. He felt something slip around his neck, yanking him back. He hissed loudly, writhing round to face his assailant. A short man with a high-vis jacket and cropped curly hair had him on one of those poles with the loop at the end- the kind stray cats and dogs are often caught with. “Fuck!!! Boss!!! It’s a bloody snake! A bloody big un’ an’ all!” he shrieked as Crowley hissed and bared his fangs. “Keep hold of it lad! I’ve got a big carrier in the van” came the deeper voice. Crowley wriggled and writhed, trying to shake loose but the harder he moved the tighter the noose round his neck became.

The next thing he knew a pair of gloved hands grasped him and shoved the mass of coils that made up his body into a too-small plastic carrier, slamming the metal door shut on his nose. He flinched and felt his eyes water. He wasn’t sure if snakes’ eyes _could _water, but he had gotten used to human responses to pain in his human form, so it happened somehow. It startled him when the tears ran into the roof of his mouth instead of out of his eyes though.

Crowley must have slipped into an uneasy sleep- he was jolted awake by someone swinging the cage as they walked, causing him to smack painfully into the sides with each movement. He hissed in protest, but the person carrying him was singing loudly and he could faintly hear music, as if from headphones. He was tipped unceremoniously out onto a metal table, the cold biting him and causing him to reflexively curl up as tightly as he could. A harsh white light shone in his eyes and gloved hands roughly picked him up, turning him over.

“Never seen one like this before boss, could be worth a reward to whoever lost it” came a different voice. “It could cause problems though, look at the big bugger” he heard another voice say. Crowley could only make out vague human shapes in the bright light. It occurred to him to hiss and bite and fight his way free of the grip on him, but if he was in some kind of pound trying an escape attempt now could see him tranquilised, or worse, euthanized, so he kept himself limp, fighting his instincts. He tuned out the voices and focussed on the image of Aziraphale he had in his head. He had a store of them, but his new favourite was the vision of the angel smiling at him as they clinked champagne glasses and toasted the world at The Ritz. He held that image in his minds’ eye, ignoring the manhandling until he was stuffed into a metal cage.

Crowley waited until the human voices had gone and the lights had dimmed. His body clock told him it was sometime in the evening. He peeked through the wire mesh of his cage door. Wall to wall metal cages full of shivering, quiet animals of all descriptions (mainly cats and dogs, with a few foxes, rabbits, and other small mammals). He swivelled to get a better look at the locks- electric by the look of them and all controlled by a panel at the front of the room. Crowley took pity on all the scared animals around him. He could feel the fear in the room, so much that it was stifling and tasted bitter on his tongue.

He put his head on his tail to think. If he wanted any chance of escape he needed a distraction. If he could somehow free all the other animals at the same time he might have a chance of escaping during the chaos, but how was he supposed to do that? He wondered if there was an automatic unlock feature built in in case of fire. _No, fire’s too risky. If I get myself discorporated I’ll only end up back down There, and I’ll never get out a second time _he thought. He wracked his brain, desperately trying to think of something. He could try to miracle himself smaller to fit through the mesh, but that was even riskier than the fire idea- he could easily explode from the effort or from the actual shrinking- he already felt like an overstuffed sausage in this skin, so he shook the idea away. One of those switches or buttons on the control panel must open all the cages in case of emergency, surely?

It was then he heard a small squeak. He peered down through the dim light, catching sight of a familiar shape running across the floor. A rat! Rats were good, rats were his friends, they had helped him pull off that frankly _stunning _bit of mischief with the mobile phone networks. They wouldn’t be keen on his current form, but he could make it work. Crowley reached out with his mind gently until he brushed against the rat’s consciousness. _Heya friend, fancy giving your old mate Crowley a helping paw? _He whispered enticingly into the rats’ mind.  
_Crowley! Long time no see! Whotcha doin’ stuck in ‘ere? _Came the reply. Crowley could have sighed in relief; she was one of the crew he had put together to keep an eye on Aziraphale a year or so ago.  
_I need your help, I’m stuck as a snake in one of these cages... One of those buttons up there should release me but I’m gonna need you to press them all _he thought at her quickly.  
_I dunno mate, there’s cats and foxes in ‘ere, wouldn’t that set them free an all? _She questioned. Rats are very smart, after all.  
_That’sss the plan, I can use the fuss to get out of here. Don’t worry they won’t see you. _  
_Are you sure? I really don’t fancy being someone’s dinner Big C... _He could feel her uncertainty.  
_Have I ever let you or your crew down? I’m a demon, I can keep you safe from a few cats! Just stick with me once you release em all. _  
_Alright C, but you owe me a favour! _He agreed to that, then watched as she ran up the side of the control panel to where all the buttons were. She daintily pressed each one in succession, and chaos began to unfold. It was slow at first, some animals not realising freedom was within their grasp. Crowley slipped into their minds, waking them up, stirring them to action. As the cages all clicked and unlocked he watched animals of all shapes and sizes spill from their cages, like a dam bursting gloriously, water spilling out towards the sea.

He used a little power to keep his rat friend invisible, straining from the effort. She was still dancing across the controls, hitting every button with her tiny paws. Finally he heard his own cage click open. Crowley slithered down and out, hitting the floor in relief. Animals trampled on him in their desperation to be free, but he ignored it all, winding his way over to the fire exit. He flipped the plastic covering on the fire alarm with his snout, then slammed his head into it, breaking the seal. He shook his head dizzily as the fire alarm rang out through the building. The door automatically unlocked after a few seconds, and he felt tiny paws clinging to his back as he slithered away. The other animals spilled after them, still a writhing mass, as he wound his way out of the building, following the glowing fire exit signs until he finally pushed out into the fresh air. He sighed inwardly with relief but didn’t stop until he had found a darkened alleyway lit only by one feeble streetlight. _Can you direct me back to the bookshop? _He asked the rat clinging to his back.  
_Yeah alright, my nest is up that way anyway. Leave us out some of them posh biscuits in the shop though yeah? _Satisfied with the deal he followed her directions until he was on the doorstep of the bookshop. _Thanksss mate _he hissed at her as she scurried off. Thank Heav_-_Hel-_ somewhere _for friends in low places he thought, as he wriggled through the gap in the door and into the safety of the bookshop.


	7. Feeding the Serpent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shorter one, back to Aziraphales' POV, now that we're all caught up on Crowleys' shenanigans! I researched snakes a bit for this fic and they're actually super fascinating animals!

Aziraphale was pottering around the back room, “snake proofing” it whilst Crawly watched lazily from the sofa. The angel had removed all sharp and breakable objects, there was already plenty to climb on and explore, the heat lamp was set up on a stool facing the sofa, and he wasn’t sure what else he could do. He supposed he had better try to feed Crawly some proper food- it turned out people food was NOT good for snakes and he had been fretting about it all day. The printed-out sheets the shop keeper had given him stated that snakes were something called “obligate carnivores” and could only digest meat and occasionally eggs or insects. In fact, the snake shouldn’t have even been aware that Aziraphales’ food _was _food at all. It was all quite strange, but he still couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

He left Crawly curled up under the heat lamp and made his way to the kitchen, opening the freezer (that hadn’t existed until he had got back this afternoon) to retrieve some dead mice. It was a rather grim affair, he thought, having to microwave dead mice (the microwave had miraculously appeared along with the freezer) but at least he didn’t have to kill anything. He consoled himself with the fact that snakes only needed feeding once a week or so, according to the stack of paper on his desk.

A sudden rustling startled him and he turned to see Crawly on the kitchen table, yellow eyes watching him with interest. “Yes yes dear, I’m making you something to eat now. Silly greedy snake!” he set the timer on the microwave and scratched the snake under his chin. The microwave dinged after a few minutes and the angel got up and brought the bowl of mice to the table. He lifted one gingerly out of the bowl, dangling it in front of the snake. If snakes could look unimpressed Aziraphale would have sworn that is how Crawly looked at him and the dead mouse hanging from between his fingers. “Crawly. This is _food _and I need you to eat it” the angel said sternly. Crawly didn’t move. In fact, he somehow looked even _more _unimpressed. “If you don’t eat it then I shan’t give you any more scratches or let you up on my shoulders!” Aziraphale huffed. The snake managed to look affronted, and hastily snatched the mouse from between his fingertips, swallowing it whole. Aziraphale beamed widely, and offered the remaining mouse to the large snake, who quickly swallowed that one too. Then he curled up on the other side of the table, away from the angel.

“There really is no need to sulk, you silly serpent! You really are just like Crowley you know. If I still haven’t found your human by the time he gets back from wherever he’s disappeared to I bet he’ll love you.” The angel smiled as he talked about the demon, but his face fell as he remembered how much he missed Crowley. He got up quickly and busied himself with cleaning up and making a cup of tea. When he finally sat back down with his tea Crawly slid back across the table and wound himself up and along the angels’ arms to his shoulders. The weight of the snake comforted Aziraphale and he petted him affectionately as he sipped his tea. “I really miss him you know” he sighed, as he stroked the tip of Crawlys’ nose. He finished his tea then slapped his knees, startling the snake.

“Right, I need to run some errands Crawly, so you’ll have to stay in the back room until I get back, alright?” Aziraphale said, after finishing his tea. “I don’t think the other customers at my local shops would be quiet as relaxed as I am about a snake roaming free whilst they shop!” he chuckled and patted Crawly as he carried him into the back room. He deposited the dejected looking snake back on the sofa and made sure the heat lamp couldn’t be knocked over before leaving the room and gently shutting the door.


	8. What Do a Snake and a Typewriter Have in Common?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They both can't type without outside help, for one thing. And both are well loved by one angel in particular...  
Have some angsty silly snek shenanigans lads!

Crawly, or rather Crowley, had no intention of snoozing in the back room whilst Aziraphale went out. He hadn’t fought a monster, eaten a lesser demon whole, escaped Hell then wriggled his way across London just to wallow under a heat lamp in the back of the bookshop. Even if it was really nice... He shook himself. He could sit and get warm later, what he needed now was a plan.

He slithered up to the door and used his tail to twist the handle, quickly sliding through the gap before the door could shut on him. First he needed to pay his debts- with a thought he miracled the promised biscuits out of the tin in the cupboard and into a nook he knew they would be found in. No one could say he wasn’t a demon of his word. His thoughts moved to more pressing matters; what could he use to leave the angel a message? Perhaps a pen and paper? He wound his way across the wooden floor, cold against his scales, and up to the desk. _Go-Sat-someone I miss having legs _he thought desperately as he wiggled up onto the desk, tired already. Being a snake was fun when it involved hiding in the bookshop unbeknownst to Aziraphale, or sleeping amongst his plants, but this was becoming more and more frustrating by the minute. Aziraphales’ notebook lay open on the desk, his favourite fountain pen lying next to it.

He tried to grasp the pen with his tail, coiling round it and straining to lift it. A N G he managed to spell out, before the muscles in his tail gave out and the pen slipped from his grip. _FUCK _he thought angrily. He struggled to lift his tail, only to find he had smudged the wet ink. His eyes in this form were not as good, but even he could tell it was illegible. He tried to grasp the pen in his mouth, but his teeth were made for sinking into flesh, not gripping a pen. He hissed in frustration. He tried lifting it with his tail again, desperately trying to keep the pen aloft as he shakily wrote H E L P, but his muscles betrayed him once more and his tail came thumping back down onto the paper, smudging the ink. He would have screamed and cursed and blessed if this form had vocal cords.

Crowley ran his eyes over the desk, searching for something else to try. _Aha! Typewriter! _He thought as his gaze fell upon it. There was the terrible poster Aziraphale had made lying next to it. _Graphic design is my passion _he thought. He would have chuckled if it were possible. It was almost as bad as when he convinced all those people that Comic Sans was a good font for a legitimate business. Or Word Art, he had been proud of that. It had brought joy to children and frustration to adults simultaneously.

He wriggled up to the typewriter, positioning his tail as best he could to try and type. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. HELP ME became HGFFELKJHPOIYLHMNBKBEMNB as his tail did the typewritten equivalent of a key-smash every time he tried to hit a letter. He might as well have slithered all over the damn thing. _FUCK’S SAKE _he thought in frustration. This was utterly useless. He could move a radiator and flick the switch but he couldn’t do anything useful like write a message asking for help.

He lay dejectedly on the cold wooden floor, spread out in the one patch of sunlight making it through the fogged-up windows. He had come all this way just to be force fed half-frozen dead mice and make a mess of the angels’ desk. If snakes could sigh he would have let out the longest sigh possible. Instead he just hissed until it hurt. He tried to look on the bright side- being a snake meant he could curl up on Aziraphales’ shoulders and feel the warmth that constantly seemed to emanate from him. Having the angel fuss over him wasn’t so bad either. But he couldn’t kiss the angel like this, or hold him, or dance with him.

He slid over to the old record player and drew himself up to examine the angels’ record collection. It was very outdated and there was nothing to inspire him. _Besides _he thought _it’s not like I can put a record on, my teeth would scratch them._ He scanned the room until his gaze fell on an ancient looking radio. He wound his way across the floor towards it and hit the on button with his tail. It crackled to life and buzzed with static, and he hissed as he realised it had a dial instead of buttons for changing the frequency. _Time for a little miracle then, _he thought, reaching out with his power to change between stations until he got to a hard rock station.

He slithered up the bookcases, perusing the books- there must be something here that he could use to leave a message.


	9. A Snake in the Sink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another short one- Aziraphale discovers the mess "Crawly" has made whilst he was out and sets everything right. (Well, almost everything)

Aziraphale turned the key in the lock, humming a Queen song he had heard in Crowleys’ car under his breath. As he opened the door he was greeted by sound of heavy rock music playing from his ancient radio, and the sight of Crawly spread out across the floor in the one patch of late afternoon sunshine that shone through the fogged up windows of the shop. There were sheets of paper scattered across the floor covered in ink smudges, and books flung from the shelves, lying open.

The angels’ mouth hung open and his bags hit the floor with a thump. “Crawly!” he exclaimed. The snake looked up at him almost guiltily, and slithered over to the angel, winding up one leg. Aziraphale stooped and gathered the snake up, pulling him off himself. “Oh would you look at the state of you! You’re covered in ink!! That could be toxic for you! We’ll have to get you cleaned up right away!” He huffed as he carried the huge snake into the kitchen and gently deposited him in the sink. He bustled around, looking for a clean cloth, then turned the warm tap on.

Crawly’s massive length didn’t fit in the sink, his coils spilling out from it as he watched the angel curiously. He took off his large overcoat, hanging it gently on a chair, before rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. Crawly would have blushed, if snakes could. “You silly snake! I really hope that ink is safe” the angel muttered as he lifted each coil carefully, wiping the ink away with a warm, damp cloth. He could have sworn he heard the snake sigh with contentment as he put his angular head underneath the running tap. “You sly devil! You look like you’re bloody enjoying this” Aziraphale huffed good naturedly as he rubbed the snake down. He miracled a large fluffy towel onto the table and gathered up the wet snake from the sink, placing him gently onto it.

If snakes could have nosebleeds Crawly would have lost all of the blood in his body. He hadn’t seen the angel with his sleeves rolled up in years, and oh! To be carried in his arms! It was all too much for his tiny snake heart to handle. It was almost worth being cursed for this, he thought. Aziraphale patted the massive snake dry tenderly, and every touch made Crawly feel as if he would surely discorporate on the spot. When the angel was finished the snake curled up the angels’ left forearm, resting his head on the angels’ shoulder. He petted the snake softly. “Now then, let’s clean up the mess you made out there, you terrible thing” he chuckled, tickling Crawly under the chin as he pottered back into the bookshop.

“That’s _quite _enough of that noise” the angel said, wrinkling his nose as he waved at the radio. It promptly fell silent, and Crawly hissed, almost indignantly. Aziraphale ran a finger gently over the snakes’ nose. “I think we need something a little more _uplifting _my dear, this really is quite a mess you’ve made” he said, surveying the bookshop as he made his way over to the shelf where he kept his records. He selected a rather battered looking sleeve and popped it on the old gramophone. Crawly lifted his head in surprise as he recognised the soft swells- it had been a clandestine meeting centuries ago, an open-air concert in Vienna, when they had heard this particular composer for the first time.

Aziraphale sighed softly. “Is it too late, do you suppose? To tell him I’ve wanted to waltz with him to this ever since we heard this for the first time?” he said softly, his grey-blue eyes filling with tears as the music washed over him. Crawly wound round his neck, and booped the angel on the nose with the tip of his snout. His amber eyes met the angels’ and Aziraphale could have sworn the serpent was crying. _Don’t be absurd Aziraphale _he thought, chiding himself. _Snakes can’t cry. _

Crawly stared into the angels’ eyes desperately, willing the angel to recognise him, practically screaming with his mind _IT’S ME ANGEL, I’M RIGHT HERE!!! _But nothing seemed to be breaking through the fog the curse had placed in the angels’ mind. Then Aziraphale did something entirely unexpected, and booped the snakes’ nose with his own, kissing the snake gently on top of his head. “Perhaps I’ll tell him when he gets back. I’m sure he’s just having another one of his naps.” The angel smiled sadly, sniffling as he dabbed at his eyes with a silk handkerchief.

He waved a hand and all the papers on the floor stacked themselves neatly in a wastepaper bin next to the desk. He hummed the tune as he bent to pick up the books scattered across the floor. “You really are a troublesome fellow, you know” Aziraphale said softly, as he lifted the first book. “Ah, the temptation of Eve...” he mumbled, reading the first few verses on the open page. “That was Crowley, of course. Before he changed his name” he pointed out the verse to Crawly, holding the book up as if he expected the snake to read it. He chuckled, “of course you can’t read, but there it is. Funny really.” He closed the book, then reverentially replaced it on the correct shelf. “How strange...” he mused, as the angel noticed that the next three books he picked up also happened to be bibles (each one an entirely different edition or version, of course) and all open at the same part. He re-shelved each one with care.

“There’s something odd going on, Crawly. But I just can’t quite seem to figure out what it is” the angel said softly as he put the last of the books back on its shelf. He swayed to the music gently, in that certain way of his, holding the huge coils of the snake in his arms. The snakes’ eyes gleamed gold in the soft candlelight, and looked so very familiar...


	10. The Tempter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically part 2 of A Snake in The Sink, just a little bit of Crowley angst-fluff   
longer part to come so stay tuned x

Crowley had so many feelings rushing through him that he could barely contain them. He felt as though they would surely rend a hole in his flesh and burst free of him at any moment. In this form he struggled with the capacity for more than one emotion at a time. It was more than he could bear. His consciousness extended beyond his physical form and into a higher plane of being, but his emotions were more than just his consciousness. They all felt very real and tangible- physical sensations that racked his body.

He trembled from it, and felt very silly- a huge snake, trembling? But of course he wasn’t just a huge snake, was he? He was a demon. The origin of Sin. The Tempter. And here he was, shaking, as his angel swayed on the spot with him. He stared straight into the angels’ eyes, begging him to recognise him. He was angry, so very angry, at being trapped in this form. He was frustrated that nothing he could do was piercing the fog the curse had placed in the angels’ head. At the same time he felt so much love for the angel that his heart felt like it could burst- of course he had taken in a random, possibly dangerous, snake he had found in the bookshop and done his very best to care for it. He hadn’t even minded the mess. The ridiculous, kind, stupid angel. Somehow amongst all those feelings he also managed to feel sad. Soul crushingly sad that he was stuck in this form instead of dancing with Aziraphale. It made his head swim, feeling all of these conflicting emotions at once.

Crowley laid his heavy head on the angels’ shoulder, allowing himself to feel the warmth of the angel through his musty old jacket. Aziraphale gradually stopped swaying, pouring himself a glass of the wine Crowley had bought him, seating himself in his usual high backed armchair. Crowley moved down the angels’ chest, settling into his lap. _I’m sitting on the angels’ lap _he thought dizzily. _Not exactly how I imagined it _(and by Someone he _had _imagined it) _but I guess it’ll do for now..._ He needed a new plan, but perhaps a nap wouldn’t hurt.


	11. A Snakes' Vent is His Own Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idk I couldn't think of a good title. I wanted to go with a vent pun, but I couldn't find one that worked. (Vents are basically where Snakes hide their genitals and also poop from, which I learnt from a very graphic snake!Crowley fic...)   
Crowley is just an anxious demon in the form of a very large but equally anxious snake. He's baby.

It had only been a week since the arrival of the massive, mysterious serpent in his bookshop before Aziraphale began to receive unexpected phone calls. The first came one bright Monday morning as he bustled around the shop. He was re-shelving for what must have been the billionth time in the past few weeks in a desperate bid to make sure no one but him would _ever _find anything they were looking for. Not only had customers recently dared to cross the threshold of his sanctuary- some had even tried to _purchase _books_. _Mostly Adams’ editions to his inventory, but still it was the _idea _of the it- if he allowed them to buy one book they might get the wrong idea and try to return for _more. _The very thought made him shiver.

“Crawly, I’m really going to have to move your heat lamp out into the shop whilst we’re open, you simply must help me keep the customers at bay! They keep trying to _buy _things!” He called out to the huge snake, who was currently eyeing up the angels’ prized Wilde first editions with something bordering on malice. So intense was his focus that he didn’t even think of a biting comment about how the point of a _bookshop _was to _sell books, angel. _Before he could spontaneously set the books in question alight the phone rang, cutting loudly through the snakes’ thoughts and startling the angel so much he almost fell from the stool he was stood on.

“Goodness, whoever is calling me at 7 in the morning? I haven’t even opened yet!” Aziraphale huffed indignantly as he got off the stool, puttering across to the phone on the other side of the room. It didn’t matter that he was already up and dressed (and had not in fact been to bed at all) it was the principle of the thing. “Yes, yes I’m coming...” he muttered and Crowley could vaguely hear him complaining about business hours, the audacity of some humans, and how he really ought not to even deign to answer the phone at this hour, beneath the shrill ringing. He lifted his head from the radiator, curious as to who could be phoning the angel- that was his job! _Probably just some other antique book dealer calling to blather on about some boring old book _he thought lazily, flicking the tip of his tail.

“Hello? A. Z. Fell here, I’m afraid the shop is currently closed, if you could please call back at a more reasonable hour- oh, oh I see.” The angel fell quiet for a moment, and this piqued Crowleys’ interest enough for him to leave his warm perch and wind his way over to the angels’ brown brogues. “How odd indeed, thank you for contacting me. Yes, yes he is getting along just fine, the heat lamp works brilliantly! He doesn’t seem too keen on the mice, is there anything else you would recommend? No, he did eat them, just not very... Enthusiastically... Should I take him to a veterinarian? Alright yes.” Crowley bristled.

_VET???! I don’t need to go to a bloody vet, I need to be un-cursed!! _Crowley thought indignantly as he realised the angel was talking about him, rearing up a little to hiss at the suggestion. Aziraphale looked down at him and tutted, twirling the phone cord in his free hand like he did when he was nervous. “Mhm... Oh, oh I see. Thank you for the warning, and all your help, it’s much appreciated. Yes, you too, good day!” The angel pursed his lips as he put the telephone back on the hook. Crowley followed the angels’ perfectly shined shoes over to the foot of his desk, winding up the one of the legs to see what had gotten angels’ knickers in a proverbial twist. He found himself wondering if the angel polished his shoes the human way, or if he used a miracle to clean them. _Surprised that he never has a layer of dust settling on him, the amount of time he stays in one spot when he’s reading something good _Crowley thought, smirking internally.

“Ah, Crawly, there you are dear fellow,” the angel said softly as the massive snake wound his way up onto the desk, scratching Crowley in the exact spot on his angular head that he liked, as he settled his huge coils in front of the angel. “Now, you won’t like this Crawly, but I really think I should take you to the veterinarian, just to make sure you are in tip top condition! That nice man from the reptile shop just called and he has been doing some digging online...” he paused as he felt the snake tense up beneath his hands. “It seems you have rather stumped him- he can’t find any snakes quite like you on the internet at all... He suggested we go visit a renowned herpetologist who is based quite close by...” he broke off as Crowley moved his head away to rest under his coils on the other side of the desk.

Crowley was NOT happy. First the animal catchers, then the weirdo in the shop, now the angel wanted to let a _vet _maul him around! “Oh Crawly, don’t be like that my dear, it won’t be so bad... I promise I’ll look after you. It seems you are stuck with me for the moment at least, the man from the shop said he couldn’t find any trace of anyone owning you or reporting you as missing, which is _very _strange, I must say. But nonetheless I am growing quite fond of you.” Crowley peaked his head out from beneath his coils, his tongue flickering out. He saw the gentle look on the angels’ face and almost melted. That smile was going to be the death of him, he was sure of it. He let the angel pet his head again, nudging begrudgingly up into his touch. The angel stopped after a while and got up, crossing back over to the phone to make a call.

Two hours later Crowley found himself awoken from a nap as he was unceremoniously scooped up and draped around the angels’ shoulders like a huge scaly scarf. He coiled tighter, instinctively seeking the angels’ warmth as he wondered where they were going. His stomach dropped as he realised they must be going to the vets. He hissed involuntarily as Aziraphale stepped out into the sunlight, his eyes aching. The angel must have felt the slight tension in his form as he gently cupped Crowleys’ head and tucked it beneath his overcoat, blocking a little of the light through the thick beige fabric. “I’m so sorry dear, I’ll just miracle my coat to block the light for you, I forgot that most snakes are nocturnal” the angel whispered remorsefully, “Just keep your head tucked under here until we get there, there’s a dear” he ran a finger gently across the snakes’ head and Crowley melted into the touch, the tension in his coils relaxing.

The walk went by much too quickly for Crowleys’ liking, and he soon found himself in a room full of noisy animals and their owners. He could feel the angel sitting primly in the uncomfortable looking plastic seat, back straight, legs together, hands clasped tightly as he waited for his name to be called. He peeked his blunt snout out from the angels’ coat, unspooling a little so that more of him was touching Aziraphale. The noises surrounding them were nearly deafening- an old, sad looking collie opposite howled mournfully every few minutes, pawing at the cone round its neck, a cat hidden away in a grey plastic carrier hissed and spat every time its owner tried to comfort it, a parrot squawked and let out a few choice swear words that made even Crowley blush internally, and other animals he couldn’t quite make out with his limited vision joined in the cacophony every so often. He sighed and buried his head back into the angels’ coat, wishing he could block it out.

As if sensing his distress, the angel began to bless some of the animals and their owners; the warm thrum of energy permeating Crowleys’ flesh and blood corporation, warming his very soul ever so gently. It felt like stepping into a warm pool, the power washing over him and cradling him softly. A sudden quiet came over the room- the old lady with the hissing cat stopped with the hacking cough and the collies’ owner looked less anxious as he leant down to ruffle the dogs’ fur affectionately. Crowley loved it when Aziraphale blessed humans and animals for the sake of it (although he’d never admit it). To him it showed that the angel really _did_ care about the Earth and all its creatures, not because it was his job, just _because. Stupid, silly, caring, wonderful, bit-of-a-bastard-really angel _Crowley thought, still glowing from the warmth of Aziraphales’ blessings as he wriggled closer under the angels’ worn old overcoat.

Time passed much too quickly for Crowley as he was awoken from a comfortable doze by the sound of the receptionist calling out “Mr. A. Fell? And…Crawly?”   
“Oh, oh yes, that’s me, where do I need to go young lady?” The angel called out, rising and supporting the length of the snake draped around him with gentle hands. Crowley curled tighter around the angel as he walked down a dimly lit corridor towards the examination room. He was not looking forward to this one bit. “Mr. Fell, I presume?” came a voice that Crowley could only describe as _slimy, _making him shiver against the warmth of the angel. Aziraphale nodded and shook the vets’ hand, before carefully unwrapping Crowley from around him. “You’ve just been walking around with this snake around your neck, Mr.Fell? That’s quite dangerous given the limited information you have on its breed. I understand you found the specimen in your bookshop and have been taking care of it, despite no prior experience with snakes?” He didn’t pause to allow the angel to answer and Crowley felt his dislike growing for the man more and more.

“I assure you he is perfectly tame, he wouldn’t hurt a fly, would you dear boy?” Crowley looked up at the shape of the angel, the bright lights of the room making it hard for him to see more than shapes, the cold of the steel table biting as the whole length of him made contact with it. “Well I’m afraid you just don’t know that, Mr.Fell. Snakes are tricky creatures” Crowley tried to make out the source of the unsettling voice when suddenly a pale, pinched face loomed above him. The vet looked reptilian; his hazel eyes almost unblinking as he held up Crowley’s head to the light to examine him. He was rather unceremoniously scooped up and placed in a sling to be weighed and tried to shy away from the mans’ cold, clammy hands, unable to escape. Then he found the clammy hands stretching him out to his full length to be measured. He found the whole ordeal so overwhelming that he found himself mentally retreating to his happy place- replaying that last dinner at The Ritz with the angel in his mind’s eye, desperate for this whole thing to be over. As soon as the hands left him alone for a few seconds he reflexively sprung back into a coil, shifting away from the end of the table where he could sense the vet. He flickered his tongue out, tasting for Aziraphale and moving towards him without thinking.

“You fed it?” Came the voice, breaking through his daydream.  
“Oh yes, some warmed up mice, but he didn’t seem too keen. Is there anything I can do? I would hate for him to go hungry…” The angels’ voice trailed off and Crowley could almost hear him wringing his hands. “Snakes often go long periods in the wild without feeding. You could try rats in future, perhaps some insects and eggs too. You can get that sort of thing from most pet shops. Are you sure you are capable of caring for this snake?” Crowley tensed, not wanting the angel to admit to finally being tired of him. “Of course! We have been getting along just fine, haven’t we Crawly, dear?” Crowley butted the angels’ hand with his head, relieved. “I have been doing thorough research on how to properly care for snakes, and I’m rather good with animals” Aziraphale continued, and Crowley could feel the tiniest bit of pride in the angels’ voice. Crowley wished he could see his angels’ face, but the bright lights really were doing a number on his eyes. The tang of disinfectant was making his eyes and tongue sting, the lights robbing him of his limited vision.

The vets’ hands began touching him again, making him tense and hiss a little at the sensation of this man’s damp hands on him. Suddenly he felt something. A finger, probing his vent! He tensed up even more, whipping his head in the direction of that part of his body. No one had ever touched him there in this form! It was awful and he let out a long warning hiss, squirming to get away from the man who was now feeling around inside of him. Aziraphale must have sensed his discomfort because a soft, warm hand touched his head, stroking in that familiar way. He felt the angels’ aura expand to envelop him but it was all entirely too much and the whole length of him went limp.

When he finally came back to himself he heard the vet speaking to Aziraphale. “Yes, it is a large male, but I am unable to identify its species, in all my years I haven’t seen anything quite like it. It seems that it is in good health but should anything change do not hesitate to call me. If it displays any aggressive or unusual behaviour you must notify me immediately. In fact I would happily take it off of your hands to study it further, if you would allow me…”  
“Oh, no!” Crowley heard the angel reply sharply. “I will contact you if I feel at all out of my depth, but I won’t have Crawly poked and prodded around! I have a duty to care for all of Gods’ creatures, as do you!” His tone brokered no further argument- Crowley could vaguely sense angelic intent behind his words and felt great relief as he was carefully lifted and draped around the angels’ shoulders once more. He felt the angel storm out of the room, a door slamming, and heard him snap his fingers.

The warmth and familiarity of the bookshop enveloped him like a blanket. The angel had miracled them back to the bookshop- but why? “Oh Crawly, I’m terribly sorry! I could feel your distress and had to get you back to the bookshop, that man was so incredibly unpleasant!” Warm hands were caressing him (and carefully avoiding a certain area). “You poor, poor thing. The way he handled you I hope he never touches another living thing again! And the way he was going on, like you were just a specimen to study, how absolutely awful. I shan’t be taking you there ever again, I promise.” Crowley relaxed into the angels’ touch, relief flooding him. He still felt disconnected, not quite there. He wasn’t sure how long he had blanked out for, but the memory of the man’s hands on him made him shiver and coil closer to his angel, seeking reassurance that he was still there.


	12. Take Me To Snurch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some musical shenanigans, with a side order of angst x  
It's been a while... Lockdown is doing a number on my mental health but I haven't forgotten about this fic! Bear with me! (Also full disclaimer I don't own the songs I quoted, but if you wanna give them a listen I've put the titles and bands below).  
Songs:  
Help! by The Beatles  
Snakes and Lovers by Spandau Ballet  
Snake Bite Love by Motorhead  
From Eden by Hozier  
(this is making me wanna make a cheesy playlist for them now, sigh)  
Also interesting snake fact- they CAN cry, but the tears drain through into their mouths, how weird is that? I've also given you a little bonus bit at the end, I wonder who the friendly Irishman in the bar could possibly be??*

Crowley was fed up. He had been with the angel for just over a week and still he was no closer to getting back his human form. It was so frustrating, being so close to the angel, and being unable to reach out for him, speak to him. He had endured countless humiliations, all for naught. He needed a plan, and he needed it fast. Books were out, pen and ink were out, the typewriter was out. But how else was he supposed to communicate? The sounds of classical music wafted out from the shop floor, coming out of Aziraphales’ antique radio. Crowley lifted his head, a thought coming to him…_Music! I can change between radio stations with a miracle and send him a message! _

He slithered with purpose out into the main bookshop, towards the shelf he knew the ancient radio still hid on. He tasted the air and reached out with his senses…Aziraphale was just on the other side of the shelf, the occasional huff of breath and rustle of pages giving away his location almost as much as the glow of energy that surrounded him. _Perfect! _He thought. It shouldn’t take much more than a little demonic influence to switch between radio stations like he had the other day but finding songs that would get the message across would be a little more tricky. He’d just have to hope luck was on his side. It was frankly ridiculous that the angel hadn’t realised already, but there seemed to be something blocking his usually sharp skills of deduction. The curse must be doing it somehow, if only he could break through.

He wound his way over to the angel, rearing his head up to bump the angels’ soft, manicured hand until the angel noticed him. Aziraphale startled, then looked down with a gentle smile that made Crowley melt and almost forget his purpose as the angel scooped him up and allowed him to wind his coils around his neck. He had a large box of books to one side and the shelf in front of Aziraphale was empty, the perfect opportunity! It meant he would stay in this spot for a while, which meant he was perfectly positioned to hear the radio. Crowley flicked his tongue out and mentally rolled his shoulders in preparation. The radio flickered to life at his direction. He nudged between static until he landed on a classic rock station, the sound of The Beatles washing through the shop.

_Help me if you can, I'm feeling down  
And I do appreciate you being 'round  
Help me get my feet back on the ground  
Won't you please, please help me?_

_And now my life has changed in oh so many ways (and now my life has changed)  
My independence seems to vanish in the haze  
But every now and then I feel so insecure (I know that I)  
I know that I just need you like I've never done before_

Crowley nudged the angels’ cheek hopefully. “Yes, yes, hello there dear, feeling needy today are we?” He chuckled and scratched the massive snakes’ head thoughtfully. “Oh the radio has changed channel, how odd! This one is rather familiar…I think it’s that young peoples’ group… The Bugs? No no, that isn’t right, The Beetles? I’m sure Crowley had something to do with how positively rabid the youth went over them! I remember his showing me on his cellular device..." He reached down to pick another book from the box, handling it reverently. "I quite liked that one song about a cottage…” He trailed off, a dreamy look on his face as he reminisced, humming the wrong Beatles song.

_Help me if you can, I'm feeling down  
And I do appreciate you being 'round  
Help me get my feet back on the ground  
Won't you please, please help me _

_The Bugs??? Bloody ridiculous angel! _Crowley thought, exasperated. He glowed with warmth at the mention of his work though, he had been proud of that- he had only shown Aziraphale decades after he had done it, as their meetings had been infrequent that decade. He mentally grimaced at “cellular device” and rolled his eyes when the angel completely missed the point of the song and started humming the wrong bloody one. He was in love with the most ridiculous being on the planet, but he needed to break through somehow, so he determinedly switched the radio station with the tiniest surge of demonic power.

_Snakes and lovers,  
Try to shed our sins  
We're undercover,  
But it's slipped beneath our skins  
Snakes and lovers,  
Holding on in the night  
Are you sleeping tight?_

_Right, some weird 80’s channel, _Crowley thought as he recognised Spandau Ballet. _Eh, it’s mentioning snakes, and I’m pretty sure it mentions Eden at some point…I just hope he’s bloody paying attention…_

_In our garden of Eden,  
With the poison in disguise  
We had grown love together  
In paradise  
Now utopia's falling  
And the messages are clear  
That the evil is crawling,  
And fear is near_   
_Now temptation comes to try,  
So I bite the apple of my eye  
Snakes and lovers,  
Try to shed our sins  
We're undercover_

Aziraphale wrinkled his nose. “Hmph, bebop. I can’t say I’m awfully fond of the sound of this, it’s not exactly Mozart is it, dear?” He tickled Crowley under the chin again as he bent to pick a book from the box to shelve. He waved a hand in the direction of the radio and it promptly changed over to Classical FM. _Bless it, angel!!! I’m trying to tell you it’s me!! _Crowley thought, annoyed. He rubbed the angels’ cheek with his snout, frustrated. He twitched his tail, switching the radio over to a rock station that was mid Motorhead song, the loud music filling the room until Crowley could practically _feel _the vibrations.

_Snake bite love, snake bite love  
In the jungle, in the jungle  
I don't wanna see the trees  
I don't wanna see the flowers  
Or the beetles or the bees  
I wanna see an Anaconda  
Coiled in the gloom  
Suffocate an alligator,   
Beneath a tropical moon  
Snake hips boy, gonna lay you down  
Gonna bite your ass-_

“-Well that’s _quite _enough of that!” Aziraphale exclaimed, miracling the radio back to Classical FM. Crowley gave a snake-y huff and rolled his eyes. “My radio must be on the fritz, It is a little old,” the angel hummed thoughtfully as he shelved another book. _Bless it all! _Crowley thought exasperated. His whole body was coiling itself tightly into knots, the very tip of his tail twitching. _One last try…_He thought desperately, switching the station once more.

_Babe, there's something tragic about you  
Something so magic about you  
Don't you agree?  
Babe, there's something lonesome about you  
Something so wholesome about you  
Get closer to me  
No tight side, no rolling eyes, no irony  
No 'who cares', no vacant stares, no time for me  
Honey you're familiar like my mirror years ago  
Idealism sits prison, chivalry fell on it's sword  
Innocence died screaming, honey ask me I should know  
I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door  
Babe, there's something wretched about this  
Something so precious about this  
Oh what a sin  
To the strand a picnic plan for you and me  
A rope in hand for your other man to hang from a tree  
Honey you're familiar like my mirror years ago  
Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on it's sword  
Innocents died screaming, honey ask me I should know  
I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door  
Honey you're familiar like my mirror years ago  
Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on it's sword  
Innocence died screaming, honey ask me I should know  
I slithered here from Eden just to hide outside your door_

_Oh, I inspired this one! _Crowley thought. _Course I had no idea who that Hozier bloke was when I started drunkenly ranting to him about the angel…_He shook his head. _C’mon angel, pleaseeee _he thought desperately. Aziraphale was swaying to the music ever so slightly. “This song is quite lovely, isn’t it, dear? It reminds me of Crowley…Oh I do hope he is alright.” Crowley perked up, nudging Aziraphale’s cheek. He curved his body out so that he could look the angel directly in the eyes. _Please, angel, please, it’s me, I’m right here!! _He thought desperately, holding the angel’s gaze, sea-blue eyes meeting his golden ones. “Oh dear, you do look just like Crowley…your colouring…the shape of your snout, even your eyes! Maybe he sent you to look after me whilst he’s away.” Aziraphale sighed, a sad look crossing his face. “I only wish he would have told me before he went off…Unless he’s still in his flat?” The angel looked thoughtful as he stroked under Crowley’s chin. “I definitely felt his energy there before, but it was very faint, perhaps he is having a nap? We should go back and check, my dear” He said as he picked up another book and began shelving again.   
_I’m here angel! Why can’t you sense my energy now??? This must be what Beelzebub meant when they said he wouldn’t recognise me…They must have placed some kind of block in the angel’s mind. What if I’m stuck like this forever? What if he thinks I’ve left him for good? I never got to tell him how I feel…_Crowley thought, tears welling and draining away into his mouth as he tucked his head forlornly into the angel’s neck, seeking the angel’s warmth.

\---  
**Flashback to sometime in 2014**

It was one of Crowley’s rare days off as Nanny to Warlock Dowling, the supposed Antichrist. The Dowlings had taken off to America for a week, taking the boy with them, so Crowley had come back to London to stay in his cold, dark flat and check on his plants. He had been brooding for the past two days, debating visiting the angel in his bookshop (he had taken a week of his annual leave to coincide rather miraculously with the Antichrist’s absence- he couldn’t very well influence a child who wasn’t there, after all). Crowley was fed up, lonely, and missing the angel far more than he cared to admit. How he had managed to go years, decades, even centuries between seeing the angel before all of this he had no idea. He needed to get drunk. Quite extraordinarily drunk.

Four hours later he found himself in a dive bar somewhere in the heart of Soho, next to a friendly long haired Irishman, both knee deep in the best whiskey this bar could offer (and some better whiskey the bar previously had not stocked). “Tell me more, friend” the Irishman coaxed, tying his hair in one swift motion whilst downing the rest of his whiskey and motioning for another with the other. “Mm…just…he let me slither right up to him! Right up the wall in Eden, right to his feet! An angel… letting a demon, the serpent of Eden, just…” He paused, downing his own whiskey and motioning for a top up. “He didn’t ssssmite me on sight! Can you believe it? Then it sssstarted raining, right? N he just…lifted his wing! Like it wassssss nothing! For me??” He was very drunk and losing control of his snake tongue, his s’s sliding into hisses. The friendly man next to him didn’t seem to notice, or if he did he made no comment, instead just smiling, nodding, and making notes in a tiny notebook he seemed to have pulled from nowhere. “He’s jusssst so wholesome, it’ssss tragic really, he’s too good for Heaven…they don’t deserve him, he’s just sssso good!” Crowley continued, glasses slipping down his nose as he gestured wildly, revealing his eyes to the stranger next to him. He didn’t seem particularly perturbed and Crowley was far too drunk to notice. “Go on,” the stranger prompted, pouring Crowley another double. “I jussssst, I love him. I love him more than I ever loved even God herself, can you imagine? The blasphemy! Me, a demon! Practically worshipping an angel! Following him through the centuries like a lost puppy…I walked into a church to ssssssave him once, I’d do it again, just to ssssssee him." He hiccupped a little, knocking back more of the golden liquid in his glass. "The church burned me, but it was nothing compared to him not existing on this Earth, even if it was only long enough for him to get a new body.”

“It sounds like this angel means a lot to you, my friend” the stranger said softly. Crowley nodded, clutching his whiskey to his chest, tears slipping from his wide yellow eyes. “Ngk. M’…m’ just…m’ just…then…_then, _right, he gives me holy water...after he said no aaand didn't speak to me for a century…and…n…and he tellsssss me…I go too_ fast_! 6000 bloody years!! How slow does he want me to go?? I’d do it! Next thing I know he’sssss telling me we could go for a picnic!” He hiccupped loudly, “A bloody picnic!!! Or ‘dine at the Ritz’ Wassshat ssssupposed to mean?” He sobbed, loudly, sloshing whiskey down himself. _This is gold _the stranger thought to himself. _This guy is too drunk to be lying. I knew it was all real! _He scribbled more notes down. He led the snake eyed stranger from the bar, hailing him a taxi and bundling him in. “Get home safe, so you can see your angel again, stranger” the man said as he pushed the demon’s sunglasses back onto his face. He wouldn’t know it, but Crowley gave him a blessing then and there, as he shut the door of the cab. Crowley woke up in his bed the next day incredibly hungover and with only the vaguest memory** of the friendly Irishman, but a feeling like a great weight had been lifted. He banished his hangover with a thought and found himself heading to the bookshop, to his angel. 

**It would come back to him after hearing the young man's album being played in his favourite record shop down in Brick Lane sometime later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't guess, it's Hozier! I'm new to his music but Take Me To Church and From Eden have BIG Crowley energy. I actually made a post on tumblr about it whilst writing this fic. According to the show timeline Crowley started working as Nanny Ashtoreth in 2013, and Hozier's first album came out late 2014, so it works for this fic, which is very handy. Anyways, that's enough of my rambling, peace!


End file.
